


Feline Fine

by SageMasterofSass



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Criminal!Jack, M/M, No monks or good versus evil battles here, Tags to be added, congrats jack your dreams of being a big time criminal have come true, cursed!Chase, don't be like Jack tho kids never smuggle endangered animals, mutli-chaptered, rating and warnings are for future chapters, smuggler!Jack, tiger!Chase, unimpressed cat noises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: The tigerHe destroyed his cageYesYESThe tiger is out





	Feline Fine

**Author's Note:**

> sup guys i decided to start a multi-chapter chack fic! the summary is that really cute poem by a little kid. here's the [credit](https://twitter.com/peterbourgon/status/807757490310025216?lang=en).

The morning Jack Spicer walks into his living room and finds an actual living, breathing _tiger_  laying on his couch is the day he seriously reconsiders his career choice. Sure, smuggling illicit goods in and out of the country is lucrative as hell. But it’s also incredibly dangerous. Usually because the authorities are looking for him, and also because the clients he works for aren’t really the happy families trying to get their dogs in without a passport type. Occasionally though, he gets an item that’s dangerous in and of itself. Cursed amulets, weapons, highly illegal drugs, plenty of shit imbued with unidentified magic. And of course, black market animals.

 

Finding one of these animals __loose__ though? That’s a new one.

 

Jack lets out a squeaking noise and shuffles a few feet back into his bedroom. Not that the tiger hasn’t already spotted him. It’s huge, golden eyes track his movements lazily. Something about its feline expression screams unimpressed and if Jack weren’t afraid of being eaten in his own home, he’d be slightly offended.

 

But the tiger doesn’t move from its position on the couch. Its front paws are crossed neatly, tail curled around its body, quiet and observant and unnervingly still.

 

Jack feels a little under prepared for this situation. He’s only wearing a pair of bright red boxers, hair mused, breath gross in his mouth cause he hasn’t had a chance to brush his teeth yet. Hell, he’d think he was dreaming if it weren’t for the exquisite details of those eyes, or the defined markings, the white streak down the tiger’s chest. His dreams are never this detailed.

 

“Uh,” he says into the silence of the apartment. The tiger flicks an ear in his direction. “Okay, um, nice kitty?” The tip of the tail starts twitching. Jack isn’t sure how he knows, but he can tell that’s an imitated movement. “Okay, no nice kitty, got it. Can I just…uh, I kinda need to…”

 

The tiger lets out an impatient huff of breath but lays its head on its paws, seemingly uninterested in what Jack has to say.

 

Which is really, really good because Jack really, really has to pee. Moving slowly, he slips around the edge of the room, never taking his eyes off the big cat all the while. The bathroom is on the opposite side of the couch, so its a tense ten minutes or so, but the tiger never moves even once.

 

When the bathroom door finally closes between them, Jack breathes a sigh of relief. He takes care of his business quickly, all the while wondering who the fuck sent him a tiger. There’s been absolutely no correspondence about large animals this month, and even the people he works with tend to give him a heads up if they plan to send something huge and inconvenient his way. Like a fucking tiger. A tiger not in a cage. Maybe it’s a performance animal? Or a pet?

 

When he comes out into the living room again, the tiger is exactly where he left it. Those striking golden eyes have slipped shut, and for all intents and purposes it appears asleep.

 

Thank fuck.

 

After getting dressed, a quick inspection finds that his backdoor is broken in, practically hanging off the frame, but that seems to be the only thing out of place. Fuck, he’ll have to hire someone to fix that for him. He’s great with metal and wiring, but wood? Not so much. In the meantime he drapes a blanket over the doorway, hoping it’ll keep any bugs out.

 

The tiger seems to sleep for a few hours, and Jack spends that time pacing a little and shooting off increasingly irate texts to his contacts. They usually start ‘Did u send me a fuckin tiger?’ and end with him warning them about what he’ll do to people who lie to him. Mostly drop them from his client list, but that’s still a huge threat. There’s nobody better at smuggling in and out of China than Jack Spicer. He’s basically the driving force behind China’s entire black market scene if he does say so himself.

 

He’s so good, in fact, and has smuggled so many tigers that he’s normally able to tell the nine different tiger species apart. Xiamen tigers are the most rare and almost never caught in the wild since they’re practically extinct. They’re good for the risky business man who wants an exotic pet because they’re all bred in captivity. Bengals and Malaysians are more common but fetch a decent price, and Amur are more of a yellowish color and don’t go for as much on the market, mostly because ninety percent of tigers to come through him wind up as throw rugs. Nobody wants a yellow rug.

 

But for all that knowledge and then some, Jack can’t figure out what the fuck kind of tiger this is. Of course, sometimes you can’t tell certain species apart without knowing where they were trapped or born or whatever, but he can’t even narrow it down to a few physically similar species. He’s got absolutely nothing on this cat. It’s fucking huge for one, bigger than a full grown Bengal male even, but the colors are all wrong. The orange is deep and vibrant, and the stripes are of the darkest black. Bengals are paler and often have brown stripes. It looks well muscled as well, not captive born, but it’s also currently sleeping on his couch. Indo-Chinese maybe? But an unusually large specimen? No, the stripes are too wide and the starkness of the white fur looks more Sumatran. He’d almost say the size alone would make it a liger, the biggest of the big cats, but again, the coloring is wrong.

 

Eventually Jack throws his hands up in frustration and gives up. Whatever kind of tiger this thing is, it’s going to fetch him a lot of fucking money and that’s all that matters. As soon as he can catch it anyways.

 

There’ll be no calling of animal control here, and his contacts are unlikely to lend him any help after his threats. But Jack is nothing if not both creative and capable.

 

He’s pretty sure he’s got some tranquilizers in his smuggling room that should do the trick. The door is hidden under a rug in his bedroom, heavy-metal and triple locked to keep prying eyes away. Wouldn’t do to have his home raided and all his hard work confiscated.  

 

He’s just unlocked the trap door and pulled it open when he hears the distinct sound of his couch groaning in protest. Either another half ton animal crawled up on it, or the tiger is awake and on the move.

 

Sure enough, when he glances back towards the door, there is the animal. It’s even more intimidating standing, huge and powerful and those too-intelligent eyes fixed right on Jack.

 

Jack swallows hard, unable to take his eyes off the beast. Christ, one of those paws is bigger than his entire face. Can he make it into the smuggling room before the tiger reaches him? His gaze flicks inadvertently towards the trap door and the tiger takes a menacing step forward. Its completely silent, those huge paws not making a single sound against the hard wood.

 

After a tense moment, Jack decides his best bet is definitely the hidden room. He dives for the opening, a loud growl following in his wake as he slides gracelessly down the concrete stairs into darkness. Behind him the trap door slams shut and the weight of the tiger slams into it mere seconds later. The impact is so loud Jack can feel it in his bones, and he spends a long second just sitting and listening, his ragged breath echoing in his ears. But except for a faint scratching noise, everything is quiet.

 

Jack stands on shaky legs and finally turns the light on in the smuggling room. It’s actually more of a warren, several rooms all interconnected by low, arched openings. Each room, their walls lined completely in shelves, has a theme of sorts, and the first entrance area is where Jack keeps things that are supposed to be picked up soon. If the buyer doesn’t show, or it was an item Jack got to sell on the market himself, then they get sorted.

 

One room in particular holds all his drugs and drug paraphernalia. He’s not much of a partaker himself, only occasionally dabbles, but drugs are always in hot demand so he keeps a good stock. Tucked away in a sleek briefcase, he finds the blow darts and tranquilizers he was looking for.

 

He’s just pulled the cool, glass vial out of the case to inspect the information on the side (that tiger is __big__ and he needs to knock it out on the first damn try) when he hears an odd noise. It’s almost like the sound of the trap door opening back in the main room. But that can’t be right. Tigers certainly don’t have opposable thumbs, and nobodies dumb enough to wander into his house with a big cat on the loose. Huh, maybe he should consider getting a tiger for himself? One that’s already trained of course, and that he can trust not to eat him in his sleep.

 

Jack strains his hearing for a moment, trying to figure out what that sound was. But nothing reaches his ears.

 

Slowly he stands, all his senses on high alert. Something is __wrong__ here, he just doesn’t know what.

 

That question is answered when the fucking tiger casually walks into the room, all silent strides and lithe muscles moving under striped fur. It eyes him for a moment, gaze flicking down to the tranq darts and back up again. There’s a warning in that gaze, Jack is fucking sure of it.

 

The tiger moves on before Jack a) figure out how the fuck it got down here, or b) try something especially stupid, like lunging for the darts. It brushes against him as it heads into the next room, seemingly unbothered by his presence and threatening him all in the same power move.

 

Jack hesitates for a second, but he doesn’t exactly have an option here. He follows the damn cat.

 

The tiger winds its way through the small labyrinth and finally comes to a stop in the room where Jack keeps all the magical artifacts he comes across. The shelves are filled with special boxes and traps that keep the items inactive and their magic from either fucking up his life, or interacting with any of the other magic trapped in the room.

 

For a moment the tiger swings its giant head back and forth, observing, but then it starts walking up and down the rows of shelves. For all the world it appears to be __looking__ for something, occasionally stopping to give an item a delicate sniff or two.

 

After a few minutes of this, the tiger turns to look at Jack, pinning him with that golden gaze and causing the smuggler to start in fear. It seems to be glaring at him, and is that judgement in the twitch of those whiskers? With a huff it turns away again, apparently disgusted, and goes back to its search.

 

Another minute or two passes, Jack nervously watching this giant wild animal circle all his merchandise. God, if that thing gets pissed there would be so much hell to pay. Just imaging all the boxes falling and breaking, or even just a few of them, sends shivers down his spine.

 

But the tiger is, dare he say, __careful__ in its perusal. Fuck, even so, Jack really should run back and grab those darts, use them while the animal is in a nice, confined space. But the way the tiger had glared at him…the challenge in those golden eyes, the unspoken warning not to even try it…

 

God, what is he doing? It’s a fucking tiger. Powerful and terrifying? Yes. Capable of killing him? Absolutely. But communicating? Warning him not to make a move against it? Not really, no.

 

Just as Jack had made up his mind though, the tiger pauses in its pacing. Carefully, it rises onto its hindquarters, front paws resting against the shelf as it leans up and gently grabs a box in its huge teeth.

 

“Wait,” Jack calls unthinkingly, reaching out a hand like he can fucking stop a giant wild animal.

 

The tiger, of course, doesn’t listen. It cracks the wood of the box with those huge fangs, and the result is instantaneous. It feels like all of the air is being sucked out of the room, straight into the fractured box, and Jack swear he feels his ears popping.

 

But just like that, its over. He’s standing in the doorway, shaking, and the tiger is spitting the broken wood out of its maw, looking more unimpressed than ever. It eyes the box disdainfully, pushing it across the floor a little with a massive paw before turning its back on it entirely.

 

With a low growl the tiger stalks out of the room, brushing past Jack again but not even glancing at him.

 

Wide-eyed, Jack follows the cat all the way back to the main room, where it sits primly at the bottom of the stairs and stares him down. Without a word Jack climbs up and opens the trap door for them both. You’d think an animal that could apparently figure out how to get __in__ to a secret underground smuggling room would be able to get out again. But no. The tiger trots up the stairs and out into the main house, again not acknowledging Jack as it goes.

 

Jack shakes his head, thoroughly fucking confused by now. He turns back to the room, ready to shut the trap door on it, but pauses.

 

The light is off.

 

He’s like ninety percent certain he didn’t turn the light off on his way up. But he had to of, right? The only other option is that the fucking __tiger__ got the light for him which is…

 

Distantly he hears the sound of his fridge opening. There’s some rustling, then it closes, followed closely by the squealing of the couch as something large settles on it.

 

What the fuck.


End file.
